Wednesday, November 4, 2009
2 Years Blogging -Goal for Year 3: Self-Control
It's been two years and I still haven't learned the art of self-control. I react without counting to three and whatever happens, happens. I can't go on like this, it's oftentimes counter-productive. Writing is the perfect way to get things off your chest, but sometimes some of that chest stuff needs to remain there. So, while I'd like to spit a lot of stuff right now, I can't. This creates double the amount of frustration. I need to say a lot, write a lot, and I can't, because at a certain point I need to learn self-control and how to manage issues without writing them in my blog- which is really what I've been doing for the past two years.
Two years ago I started writing this blog and never would I have ever imagined that I would have been able to keep it going this long. But writing throughout these past two years has been a cathartic experience and the opportunity for me to think through a lot of issues.
The surprising thing is that the issues continue to evolve, my kids keep growing and so do I. I've never really looked at myself as a function of myself, only as a function of my kids. In this two year time period I have both built and destroyed. Now I'm trying to deal with the repercussions of both.
I received a letter the other day in regard to work and by what was written in the letter, it was obvious that this person had no idea what I've been working on and at what level the past two years. He/She saw me speak as the passionate mom fighting for her cause...he/she didn't meet me as the coordinator of a project that I had to fight for every single time an issue was raised. He/She didn't see me arguing with doctors to make sure my ideas were heard and enacted. He/She wasn't in the room with me when I met with the President to present a project created together with American support, or how I made the president come around to my side of the table during the meeting.
How many roles can we assume in the course of the day? We've discussed this a thousand times. I can be the sweet mom who makes you live what I've lived for five minutes of your life, but the work I do does not stop there.
How do you make these people understand that?
And people wonder why I'm schizophrenic, this place is enough to drive you crazy.